You decide to go and see how Midori's doing. A part of you wants to check up on the members of the Kill-Team you'll be going into the Akashic Realm with - after all, they'll be the ones you'll be fighting side by side with when the shit inevitably hits the rotating blades - but another part tells you that all you'd be doing is intruding on something intimate and personal, like a couple's last few moments together before they're made to fight for each others' lives. ...At least, in Kyoko's and Sayaka's case, at least. You've no idea what's going on between Mami and Wendy, but you have your suspicions.

Just suspicions, though. Yeah. Just that.

...Anyway. After a quick call to Kyuubey to confirm that Midori's no longer at his office, learning...whatever it is the mutant cat wanted her to learn, and it's with Muramasa in hand that you make your way towards your own quarters. Apparently, Midori was a startlingly-quick learner, and got a handle on whatever she was supposed to understand right away, impressing your Incubator even more than she already had. That said, he was mildly surprised at your Callidus immediately asking to be excused directly after they finished, running off to the Warmaster's Office even before Kyuubey could say yes.

"I didn't mind the break in protocol, Matsuda, but I did find her behavior somewhat strange." Kyuubey had said. "Any other Callidus, Matsuda, and I'd have her detained and executed for suspicion of espionage."

Of course, he meant it as a joke, even deigning to point it out a sentence later, and then apologizing for it after listening to your cold, disapproving silence. "Not the kind of joke I should make, I realize in retrospect." He added, just before ending the call.

Of course it's not the joke he - or anyone else - should be making, for fuck's sake. It's crass, inappropriate, and completely uncalled for. Midori's done enough for you - and by extension, for this entire Officio - that suspecting her of espionage is objectively insane and warrants a spot execution delivered personally by you and your Desert Eagle. She's done as much for you as Mami did - and even then, probably more. So FUCK anyone who would dare try to insinuate or even think otherwise, you'll tear them apart with your bare hands--

You grit your teeth and shake your head, making a conscious effort to loosen your white-knuckled grip on Muramasa. Now's not the time to get mad. Kyuubey didn't mean it, after all. He was just making a joke, after all.

Just a joke, you repeat to yourself, stopping in front of the door leading to your Office. You knock twice, and - hearing Midori's hurried 'Come in!' - you pull it open and step inside.

"Ah, sempai!" Midori beams as she greets you, and you catch a whiff of something vaguely resembling flowery perfume in the air inside your office, along with the sound of hissing, steaming water. You also notice that your Callidus is very lightly dressed - in fact, you don't think she's wearing anything underneath that white apron barely holding everything in.

Staring at her with ever-widening eyes as your brain tries to process just what she'd said.

How do you react?

[]...Right here? You wanna do it right here?[]Before we do this, I have to say that I disapprove of using the Warmaster's Office in this manner. I'm not Kharn.[]Mumble incoherently and say something about having to get ready for some sort of op.

>>36035347I'm sorry anon, lewdness > shadowruns.Besides, even were that the case I enjoy the idea of this being an enemy Callidus trying to get a cheap shot in at the Warmaster only to get foiled by lewdness and fucked into compliance by an unknowing Chiaki.

>>36035789You forgot the part where they join inAnd the part where we take pics and send it to Kharn to show that we banged the blonde that she never couldAnd the part where we've been in the Akashic Realm for days and this is all part of a delusion that we are having after we lost to a bunch of witches

You kick the solid, heavy wooden door behind you shut, just as you reach over and unceremoniously drop Muramasa into your office's umbrella basket. A moment later, and you've cancelled your transformation, your Magical Girl costume winking out of existence to reveal your half-naked form in all its pale and noodly glory - the many scars you've earned throughout your career criss-crossing over your skin.

"You wanna do it?" You ask Midori, at the same time that you begin to pull off your own underwear as well. "You wanna do it right here? I don't mind, but we have to be quiet, because--"

Not long ago, you would've balked at the merest idea of doing something like this. You're not a fucking prude, that's much for sure, but there's limits to your bohemianism. Going around your old apartment in nothing but your underwear? Sure, it's your own fucking apartment. Actually fucking right inside your office, close to the door, where anyone passing could hear? You'd have shut down the idea with a glare and possibly an implied threat of kneecap loss or two back then.

Now, though...well. You're still that person, but someone who also wouldn't mind sneaking a bit of alone time before an operation. Fuck whoever overhears, you're Warmaster. You can do whatever the fuck you want! ...Just so that they know you're not Kharn!

"Eh? Quiet? But I don't--" Midori turns back to you, seemingly having been preoccupied with something earlier and only now just paying attention to you. Her own eyes widening as she catches your sports bra - and then blushing furiously as she sees you pull your panties down. "W-wait! Wait, sempai, I didn't mean it like that...!" She scurries forward, still reddening, and pulls your panties back up your thighs.

Huh? Then...what did she mean by it, then? You're more annoyed here than embarrassed. She can't just tease you and then leave you hanging like that--

"A bath! I...I drew sempai a bath!" Completely red now, the Callidus gestures towards your quarters, where a faint cloud of perfume-scented steam is slowly wafting through. "I wanted to help sempai relax before the operation, and since you haven't really taken a proper bath ever since you started waiting for Yuma-san to wake up, I thought..." She looks down at her now-twiddling thumbs.

...Oh. A bath. You blink at the direction of your quarters, and then back at Midori. That's...

You raise an arm and sniff an armpit, frowning. ...Well, you're not exactly fragrant, but at the same time you're not exactly putrid, here. Or is that just you?

"What? Oh, n-no, sempai! You're not...um, smelly!" Midori shakes her head furiously. "J-just, I thought it'd be nice for sempai to experience something like this for a change, and..." Her stuttering voice lowers here, into almost a fervent whisper. "...Maybe I can wash sempai's back, too...?"

Even with your disappointment, you can't help but notice that this means a lot to Midori.

How do you respond?

[]I don't see what's the big deal about it, but if it's that important to you, sure.[]Nod awkwardly, thank her, and allow her to lead you to your bath. []I can just take a shower, you know.

Praise the Emperor, I finally managed to scrape the time from my life to see a thread in progress after a bloody year.

And after a forced year of absence, re-reading MGNQ got me into re-reading the HH books, and now I can't help but wonder if Wendy is the MGNQ equivalent of Cyrene Valantion (Chaos/'Blessed Lady' worshipper brought back from death through means most assuredly Chaotic/Blessed Lady-y) or Argel Tal (Possessed Marine/Double-Lich Meguca doing his/her level best to protect his/her good friend, Khârn/Murderface)

>>36036375But...there's blatantly tons of space in the picture. It's not like they'd have to throw on winter wear and long coats, just maybe throw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Maybe not design the suit to show off puffy nipples (hell, if there's space issues it would make more sense to bind your chest), that sort of thing.

>>36036410Or die like that little bitch RD?>>36036418V era shit is literal shit dug up from the ground a la Turn A, these are also 5m tall opposed to 10m ACs of prior generations. I don't have it in me to argue ergonomics as much as I'd love to due to 2:22AM, plus I'm derailing the thread and I don't want to upset Decu.

While a bath wasn't exactly what you expected, it's...not exactly a bad idea, either. Truth be told, you'd been feeling muggy and itchy underneath your costume since the second day of your vigil outside Yuma's Silent Room, and more than once you found yourself wondering if you could steal away for a second and sneak in a few minutes underneath a running shower. Just get a good scrub down before going back to work.

This shocked you right to your core, of course - before all this, showering was something you only did when people around you stopped being able to ignore how much you reeked of dried blood, rancid sweat and stale alcohol. This would usually take a good handful of weeks, and result in a good deal of complaining to Mami and Malal.

And depending on who was on hand to respond at the time, either you get cajoled into a shower to be lovingly hand-washed by a blonde goddess of victory, or bodily dragged to the Officio's subterranean parking lot and be hosed down painfully by a biker chick snickering behind her skulled helmet.

...The thing is, bathing hasn't really been your thing since recently, and you've never thought of it as something to be done for relaxation. But the more you think about it now, with you standing here half-naked in your own office, mere hours away from an operation where you may not come back alive - it seems like a good idea. The fact that your own half-naked Callidus is offering to assist you during it also helps, too.

So your response to her offer, then, is an awkward nod and an equally-awkward thanks - and this seems to jolt her out of her self-conscious reverie, her crimson eyes widening in time with her surprised, relieved smile. She holds out a hand, one that you gladly take - and she takes it as the signal that it is, leading you across the floor of your office, then into your quarters, and then finally into your bath.

The floral perfume-scent is strongest here, you note as you breathe in the comfortably-warm air inside your quarters' expensively-furnished bathroom. The source is clearly the drawn bath, the water clear and yet tinged with just a bit of green, but...hnh. Did she use something for the water? Some sort of bath perfume, or...?

"Bath perfume, sempai?" Midori blinks as she leads you into the shower, probably for the pre-bath rinsing. "Er...no, not really. I found some really expensive bath salts in the medicine cabinet, though, so I just used that." She smiles. "It does smell good, though, doesn't it?"

Yeah, it does. You nod as you divest yourself completely of your own underwear, something that you see Midori redden again at.

...What? She's seen you naked already, right? What's she got to be embarrassed about?

"I...um...it's not that, sempai, it's just--" Midori begins, before shaking her head. "N-nevermind. Um, if you'll just sit down here, then, sempai, we can start..."

You obediently sit down on the stool she pushes into position underneath you, wincing slightly as the cold wood makes contact with your bare skin. A moment later - and completely without warning - Midori turns a handheld shower nozzle on over your head, and the sudden deluge of ice-cold water is enough to make you loudly curse and shriek at the shock of it.

Your Callidus panics for about a second before profusely apologizing, holding the shower away from you but at the same time soaking herself in the process (and also making herself shriek at the surprising temperature).

This goes on for a couple of seconds until the both of you calm down enough to continue the rinsing - until finally, you get to the point where you've washed yourself enough that only your back is left untouched by soap. A duty that Midori had specifically asked for the pleasure of doing herself.

"Well, h-here I go, sempai. ...If, if I'm making you uncomfortable or anything, please say so and I'll stop, alright..?"

You nod and close your eyes, leaning forward slightly as you feel her soap-slick hands begin to move across your naked back. Her soft, warm fingers moving across the pebbled, striated network of scars etched across your skin. Each clumsily-healed mark a souvenir from a mission you've shed blood on but can barely remember.

...This is pretty comfortable. You can get used to having someone else wash your back like this.

"Am I doing okay, sempai?" Midori asks quietly, carefully, as she continues to lather up your back, at the same time giving you what feels like a very slow and very relaxing massage. Her soap-slickened fingertips kneading the soreness out of your muscles there - pressing here, rubbing there, making the tension melt away.

You grit your teeth as you suppress a sudden moan, your Callidus' fingers having found a certain spot of tension by your shoulder blades that, once pressed, made your knees go rubbery. ...Christ, she's good with her fingers.

Just as you make to reply to the positive, though--

+ Tell her that you want the works, Nameless One. + Dildoes' voice whispers in your mind. + She'll know what to do. It makes for a more relaxing experience that way. + She ends her whispered bit of unsolicited advice with a chuckle that didn't sound suspicious at all, no way.

Silence. Absolute silence inside your bathroom, besides the occassional drop of water breaking the otherwise calm surface of the bath Midori had drawn for you.

Then, sensation. The sensation of Midori taking her hands off you, followed by the sound of wet cloth being shucked aside. More sounds - a brief splash of water upon skin, a shower gel bottle lid being popped open and then clicked shut a moment later, and then --

Softness. Just softness, dizzyingly warm, dizzyingly slick, pressing lovingly upon your shoulderblades before sliding down your back in a near-frictionless slide. Up and down, up and down.

Midori's arms wrapping around your waist, cinching around you in a gentle hug, more to keep herself pressed against you as she continued her motions than to keep you in place.

Her face buried against the nape of your neck, her breath tickling your ear, her own scent - a tantalizing combination of kiwi and the soap she was using to wash your back - filling your nostrils.

All of this combine into something you've never felt before, and if you'll be honest, something you don't really want to stop. Ever.

This is the works, then. This is what Dildoes recommended.

You may hate the way she talks down to everyone, and absolutely despise her style, but you can't deny that she does know her shit.

"Is...is this better, then, sempai?" Midori asks again, her voice made breathy - either by the situation or the exertion of it, you can't tell. All you know is that you're having your back lathered up by your Callidus using her generous physical endowments, and...well, she sounds like she's having fun.

You certainly are, in any case.

How do you respond?

[]...Much better. Really much better.[]Did Miracle Midori do this in your manga, too?[]Simply nod, allow her to continue. No need to spoil the moment by talking.

You nod again, preferring to keep the moment from being spoiled by you talking. Midori sighs happily at this, clearly pleased - her arms tightening around you in a brief embrace before she continues on giving you the most memorable pre-bath rinse you've ever had.

The sensation of something so unbelievably soft and warm rubbing up and down your back, coupled by the luxurious lack of friction afforded by the body soap's thick lather...it's enough to send shivers down your spine and curl your toes, and you make no qualms of showing just how good - or how right - it feels.

It's so effective - no wonder Dildoes called it 'the works' - that it only takes a few minutes' worth of this treatment for you to be rendered helpless by it.

Your own breath sawing in and out of your lungs in feathery gasps, every fiber of your being so relaxed and at the same time so aroused to the point that it's all you can do to stop yourself from screaming for more. Even more when Midori suddenly stops in her movements, burying her face in your wet hair, her own body shivering as it presses against yours in a clinging embrace.

"I...I have to stop, sempai," Midori wheezes into your neck, her shoulders quivering. "C-can't continue. Otherwise, I'll...I'll lose control, a-and..." She lets the sentence hang between the both of you, although from how she's breathing she's probably just as affected by all of this as you are. Maybe even more.

>>36039328>Midori was alone?well the fact that there was supposed to be someone else here and that Deculture is posting a lot of Akuma Homura images make me think that something interesting is going to happen

>>36039502Braids has a more timid way of talking, Murderface doesn't sound like the rest so the only one left is her unless you are suggesting that it is actually Akuma Homura that is telling us things

>>36039632Risa did talk to us (about killing Mami) even when we weren't holding the axes. I'm assuming that the more you're using a weapon, the more you "attune" to it extending the range for communication.

You shift on your stool, grab her by the shoulders, and kiss her before she could even react. Before she could even finish her half-stuttered, half-gasped sentence. Leaving her only time to throw her arms around your neck - and to pulse a single word of surprise across the connection you share - as you make your move.

+ Sempai +

She was telling the truth - she was only a hair's breadth from the precipice. Her lips open immediately as soon as they brush against yours, accepting you, accepting everything, allowing you to take the lead where she had been doing so moments before.

Midori moans into the kiss as it deepens, her eyes fluttering closed, and you feel her grow warmer underneath your touch. Her hands move from your shoulders and over your body, over your back - her fingers running over your scars, the soap lather from earlier making her hand slip over them as if the knobbly, pebbled evidence of your hard life never even existed. As if they were never even there.

Just as you begin to push this a bit further - your own hands making their way down Midori's waist - it's here that a sudden hellish beeping rudely fills the entire bathroom, shocking the both of you hard enough and jarringly enough that you both flinch out of each other's arms in alarm. Midori ending up shrieking as she falls back onto her ass, and you very nearly cracking your skull open against the tiled wall behind you.

>>36039992>it's here that a sudden hellish beeping rudely fills the entire bathroom, shocking the both of you hard enough and jarringly enough that you both flinch out of each other's arms in alarm. Midori ending up shrieking as she falls back onto her ass, and you very nearly cracking your skull open against the tiled wall behind you.

What the fuck? What the FUCK is that? You growl as you pull yourself to your feet, glaring at the tiny speaker embedded on the bathroom wall. Did someone just sign their own fucking death warrant by beeping you through your fucking bathroom intercom again?

"N-no, I don't...I don't think so, Sempai," Midori murmurs, blushing furiously as she rises to her own feet, demurely pulling a towel around her. "I...um, I turned it off myself, actually, just for today." She gives you a sheepish smile, one tainted with disappointment, before disappearing underneath that professional look that you've seen her sport. "This is probably a bit more important, though. Can I run out to check for a bit?"

You blink at Midori for a few moments, before nodding. Anything to just shut that alarm up. And maybe...well, maybe continue where you left off, although you're not so sure about the chances of that happening. The mood feels...ruined.

Midori quickly steps out of the steamy bath, wiping her feet on the rug and then tiptoeing out to your office. You hear something being clicked open, and the beeping ceases - followed by a voice that could only come from one source. One miles away from here. One that you thought you wouldn't have to hear from till much, much later.

"Sempai?" Midori calls from your office. "It's Miss Valnikov! She wants to talk to you, and she says it's very important!"

...Dammit, Kharn. DAMMIT.

How do you respond?

[]Get over there and see what your accursed predecessor wants.[]Tell her to end the call and get back to you. Bath time needs to be finished.

The room stank. That was the first thought that ran through Clare's mind as consciousness began to seep in. The smell of blood and shit and piss filled her nose and mouth. Each new inhale took in more of the odour, making her gag uncontrollably. Ragged coughs and wheezes shook her body against the restraints pinning her down. Her eyes shot open, then closed again as the light blinded her. She gagged harder, desperately trying to force the taste of corpse air out of her lungs.

"Oh! Whoopsies~!"

A hand lifted her head off of the operating table. Something snaked its way behind her head as a weight pressed down on the lower half of her face. There was a click and hiss as the the pressure on her face increased, sealing itself on. Clare gave one final, rauccous cough and the horrid stench was purged from her lungs, replaced with a familiar, relaxingly sterile taste of nothingness.

"Poor little Clare-bear," a soft, slightly-accented voice said overhead. Clare felt a gentle hand run through her hair. "How can I give you a good morning kiss with your mask in the way, hm?"

Again, she tried to open her eyes. The light was no less blinding the second time, or the third time, or the fourth. By the fifth try, she managed to squint through the brightness, catching the silhouette of a person against a circular light overhead. A handful of smaller coughs rattled her lungs - the aftershocks of the earlier fit.

Before she could even see properly, Clare grumbled, "Let me up."

The figure hovering over her looked away, its motion giving the impression of indignation. "No magic word, no thank you," the voice pouted. "You could at least give me that much!"

As details began to fill out, the other girl looked down at her with unearthly bright golden eyes. Her face was beautiful - uncannily so. Long eyelashes, almond-shaped eyes and a slender nose. It was always the eyes that seemed off, Clare thought. Too bright and shimmering, with the sort of unnatural allure that sets off fight or flight instincts. The eyes of a monster wearing a woman's face.

The girl wrinkled her perfect nose and pouted, then flashed a wry grin as she let out a soft giggle. Clare shivered against her restraints.

"Good girl," the girl replied in her sing-song voice, running her hand through Clare's hair one last time.

A loud thunk shook the table as the metal restraints pried themselves apart. Clare pulled herself upright, her naked skin peeling itself off the stainless steel table. The operating room was still darkened, lit only by the overhead lights. The surgeon had since busied herself wheeling tables and machinery out of the way, skipping and humming to herself as she did. It was a cramped chamber, perhaps only big enough for three or four people at the most. The walls were tiled with riveted steel plates, while the floor was made up of metal grates.

Clare pulled the IV from her arm, willing the slightest bit of magic to patch up the hole it left behind. After yanking off another handful of excess wires, she stretched, checking the seals of her respirator as she did.

Vindicare Clarimonde Isengrim (Clare or Grim to her friends) had served the Thirteenth Officio for three years, rising through its ranks to lead The Morticians, the most elite honour guard squad in the Officio. Standing nearly seven feet tall and packed with muscle from head to toe, Clare was a giant compared to most. After three years of genetic enhancements and organ transplants, her body had been converted into the perfect killing machine. Without the alterations, she would have been more than a match for any Rank Leader, but with them... she could very well have held her own even against a Warmaster.

Her surgeon - the young woman who insisted on wearing coats costing in excess of a thousand dollars even during surgery - was Carnicula Prima Wilhelmina von Klempt, and the Morticians' dedicated Apothecary. Originally from the Fourteenth Officio, Billie was contracted for an entire week before being transferred due to 'unsavoury, deviant practices'. At the moment, she wore a long, black lambskin coat in place of a traditional labcoat over a simple, pink button down shirt with most of the top buttons undone, and a black tie hanging loose and low.

The strangest feature of the doctor, however, was not her misplaced sense of style. Rather, it was the great whirring, multi-armed contraption that jutted from her back - the Chirurgeon. Various mechanical appendages reached over her shoulders, ending in drills, syringes, scalpels and various other tools that made Clare shudder. The device seemed to fuse into her back and spine, melding through her coat in a twisted amalgamation of flesh, machine and fashion.

"There we go, three lungs, just like I promised," Billie said, making a show of dusting off her hands. "Honestly, Grim-grims, even your body is picky about where your air comes from."

Clare shrugged. She couldn't help but run her thumb along the red line below her left breast that marked the incision site. The operation had been attempted at least three times before, but each time her body resisted the extra organ and almost killed her in the process. The Apothecary had spent months attempting to formulate an immunosuppressant that wouldn't be neutralized by her existing superhuman organs.

"Can I trust this one to last?" Clare asked.

Billie pouted, her cheeks puffing up as she planted herself firmly in Clare's lap and rested her head against the other girl's shoulder. "Honestly! Two hearts and you can't even spare a 'thank you' without being forced!" She teased. "Isn't it about time you stopped playing hard to get~?"

"Billie," the larger girl muttered, glowering down at the Apothecary.

Billie simply batted her eyelashes and stared into the Mortician's eyes, swirling a finger against her bare chest.

The Apothecary cried out as Clare dropped her unceremoniously onto the operating table. With a momentary flash of light, the Vindicare's costume materialized around her - a black greatcoat with a bright red, oversized collar that stuck out past her shoulders and a pair of matching crimson gloves.

"I am grateful, but do not presume that I find your antics endearing," she growled at the giggling Venenum. Even through the respirator, the stilted syllables and awkwardly pronounced W's of her suppressed accent were apparent. With one hand, Clare picked her oxygen tank up off the ground and swung it onto her back, fastening the straps around her shoulders.

"Cold and hard all the way through," the Apothecary murmured, giving her an inscrutably gentle smile. "Someday you'll have to soften up, Miss Iron Hound. I know there's a cute little puppy dog in there somewhere!"

Clare scowled harder. With her respirator, her eyes took on the burden of expressing her full range of emotion. They were always sharp and stern, and her irises blazed with an unnatural golden-orange sunset hue. She could have sworn they were simply brown before she had contracted to the Thirteenth.

Before she could formulate a response, the PA system overhead crackled to life. "Vindicare Isengrim and Carnicula Prima von Klempt to the meeting room," a male-sounding voice called out muffled tones. "Repeat, Vindicare Isengrim and Carnicula Prima von Klempt to the meeting room. Thank you."

"Come," Clare murmurred, tilting her head toward the door.

Billie obliged with a mischievous grin. By the time she hopped off the operating table, the Vindicare was already out the door and moving through the narrow halls of the MS Pulchritudinous.

The Vindicare's stride always held a certain air of grim determination, her leather gloves crackling as she balled her hands into fists. Billie, on the other hand, turned her chin up as she walked with all the elegance of a fashion model, her heels clicking against the linoleum and the Chirurgeon jingling and rattling behind her with every step.

There was a time when the Pulchritudinous was a proud, luxurious cruise liner, her halls bustling with wealthy patrons, but that era had come and gone long ago. Billie had purchased the forty-something year old ship for the measly sum of three million American dollars. She had affectionately referred to it as a 'fixer-upper' at the time. After two deaths, a dozen serious injuries and several times her original cost had been put into her, the ship had finally been deemed sea-worthy once again.

The lowest passenger deck - still retaining its original name, the Coral Deck - had been given over entirely to the small staff of Venenum on board. Billie's private quarters and laboratory took up much of the forward portside, while a dozen other private offices lined the starboard. Between them were the stairs to the Fiesta Deck, flanked by a pair of elevators.

Clare prodded the call button on the nearest elevator, then tried her best to keep Billie from clinging to her arm as they waited.

Across from the elevators, through a set of revolving doors, Clare could see into what had once been a lavish dining hall. Now, it held banks of consoles staffed by the many Venenum onboard, while tubes of life support fluid and the subjects contained therein were placed against the walls. As Clare mindlessly shook the Chief Apothecary off her arm for the umpteenth time, she couldn't help but try to see over the shoulders of the Venenum, curious about their work. Clare had never had a mind for it herself, but the results fascinated her nonetheless.

By the time the elevators rumbled open, the Vindicare had conceded to Billie's insistent skinship. The way she wrapped herself around the oversized arm reminded Clare more of a child than anything resembling a lover. Even still, Clare was thankful that her squad tended to steer clear of the ship's bowels whenever they could.

Horribly grating, bouncing music greeted them as they stepped inside - yet more of Billie's handiwork. Up the elevators rose through the decks, through Fiesta, Aloha, Riviera and Promenade. The journey to the bridge deck seemed to last an hour in Clare's mind, the Venenum at her side bouncing and shimmying to the elevator music. Eventually, at long last, the doors hissed open, freeing Clare from Billie's clutches.

In contrast to the lower decks, the bridge deck (not bearing any festive title) was plain and utilitarian, with a black linoleum floor and cream-coloured walls. While the bridge itself was untouched, the captain's quarters had been modified into an official meeting room, complete with a long table, swivel chairs and perrenial coffee mugs.

There, leaning against the wall by the door, Clare spotted a woman with blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a smouldering cigarette between her lips. She wore no magical girl costume, instead sporting a grey jacket and urban camouflage pants. As she caught sight of the newly arrived pair, she waved a hand and smirked behind her cigarette.

"Yo."

"Joe," Clare said in monotone, snatching the cigarette out of the blonde's mouth and crushing it in a gloved hand. "I don't recall hearing your name being called."

Hailing from the Sixteenth, Vindicare Josephine Laurent had taken the position of Clare's second-in-command following the previous squad leader's departure. She was one of very, very few people that Clare trusted enough to call a friend.

"Ah, you know," the blonde laughed, her words coloured by a French accent, "I just thought I'd stop by and see what is 'appening. Must be important for them to call the both of you, no?"

Clare raised an eyebrow and gave the French girl a bemused smirk beneath her rebreather. "Suit yourself," she said, opening the door. "Come, then."

"So lenient?" Joe snickered as she followed after Clare. "You worry me, Grim."

As the three magical girls filed into the darkened meeting room, they found that the television at the far end of the table was already on. An incubator sat primly atop a wooden desk, looking much the same as many of his brothers, save for the pair of thick-rimmed glasses, a tiny necktie and a slightly curled tuft of hair between his ears. Behind him was a blonde-haired young woman, a stitched line running from the corners of her lips and across her face.

"Hi, Nigel~" Billie exclaimed before throwing herself into a chair and spinning around.

"Nigel," Clare said as she gave the incubator a nod. "Madaraki." Just a hint of venom coated her tongue as she said the second name.

"Ah, there you are!" The incubator said. "Good afternoon, Miss Isengrim, Doctor von Klempt! And, oh! I see Miss Laurent will be joining us as well!"

"Bonjour," Joe replied, taking her own seat.

Of the three, only Clare remained standing, her arms crossed, though none of the others seemed to find this unusual. Behind Fran Madaraki, she could recognize what appeared to be the captain's office onboard the SS Rafflesia. The Venenum took the Warmaster's seat with a certain implaceable ease that immediately put Clare on edge.

"Excellent! Now that everyone is gathered here, I suppose I'll right to chase," the incubator started. Despite being the head of the German-based Officio, he spoke with an unmistakable - if somewhat exaggerated - British accent. "There has been something of a, er, how shall I say, 'change of command' in the Officio. Erm, truth be told, I'm not entirely sure how to put this-"

The incubator was silenced as Fran placed a gentle, but firm hand on his head. "What Nigel meeeeans to saaaaay," she started, "is that as of, ooooh, one hour ago, Warmaster Strauss has been foooormally dismissed from the Thirteenth Officioooo."

"Ah?" Billie made a small, excited yelp, as though suddenly understanding. "Does- Does this mean that I- that my greatest is finally-"

"Erm, I'm sorry," Fran said, "but no. As of noooow, I have taken up the mantle of Chief Director of the Thirteeeenth!"

Silence reigned. Both sides seemed to be waiting for the other to speak first. Clare counted as her twin hearts beat thrice each before clearing her throat.

"Nigel," the senior Vindicare said, her voice carrying the same edge as a cocked gun, "is this true?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed, seemingly pulled from a trance. Nonetheless, his voice carried the same overly-enthusiastic tone as always. "Thank you, Chief Director! I couldn't have put it better myself! We thought it would be prudent to inform you, ah, 'in person' before the official memo goes out. An official inauguration will be held in the coming weeks. In the mean time-"

"'Coup' is an ugly word, but," Fran answered, "to be clear, yes. Things have happened, Clare. Doctor Strauss' atrocities have become known to the greater Officio community. You can not honestly have expected her not to face consequences."

"Chief Director Madaraki is quite correct, Vindicare Isengrim," Nigel added. "Should we have continued to support Doctor Strauss, I fear our Officio may have faced purgation! It is in our best interest to issue a firm denouncement of her practices and draft a reformed ethics policy in the wake of this incident."

"Doctor Strauss overreached her boundaries," Fran replied. Her expression was far more stoic and resolved than Clare had ever seen before. She almost respected it. "She kidnapped an innocent magical girl from the Ninth. Is that enough for you, Clare?"

"Why does SHE get to be Warmaster?" Billie asked, keeping a much looser hold on her emotions than the German Vindicare. "I've been a Prima for FOUR YEARS, DAMN IT!"

"Excellent question!" Nigel exclaimed. "In the interests of projecting a stronger, more ethical image, I have deemed Fran Madaraki to be the best choice for the position. Of course, I mean no personal offense! You are a wonderful scientist, Doctor von Klempt, but you can see where your ideals may cause conflicts of interest."

Billie's beautiful face twitched and shook, looking as though her veins were about to burst through her forehead. Before the Apothecary could say anything further, Clare raised a gloved hand. A faint, canine-sounding whimper echoed through the room as Clare's shadow settled.

"If," she started, her calm, detached aura having returned, "there are no further questions, I would like to speak with our new Warmaster alone."

She glanced at the others, her burning orange eyes fixating on Billie. The Venenum shook her head gently and stared down into her lap. The German Vindicare then nodded at her second, who had been conspicuously silent during the meeting. Despite not having said a word, Clare found herself immensely grateful that Joe had joined her for the meeting.

"Joe. Take the the Carnicula. Watch over her. Get a drink."

The other Vindicare clasped a fist over her heart as she rose. Joe tried her best to work an arm around Billie's shoulders, past the Chirurgeon, but it didn't quite seem to work. Instead, the Venenum wrapped herself around Joe's arm and leaned into her. Clare found a smile tugging at her lips beneath her respirator, musing on the similarity to her own situation just minutes ago.

As the door shut behind the pair, Clare turned back to find Fran shooing the incubator off of her desk. For a moment, the new Chief Director struggled to meet the Mortician's stare, but seemed to steady her resolve in short order.

"I wanted to see what sort of expression you would make when faced with the consequences of your actions," Clare replied, as though it were simple common sense. "Even now, you know that killing me and purging this ship would be the smartest course of action, and yet you won't. For all you've done, Fran Madaraki, you don't have the stomach for what this job will make you do."

"And thaaaat is where we differ," Fran said. Hearing the German's words seemed to steel her and give her clarity, by the fact that her verbal tic had returned. "I wiiiill reform this Officiooo without getting my haaaands bloody. The Doctor Strausses of thiiiiis world are going extiiiiinct, Miss Isengrim. I woooon't ask for you to like iiiit, I oooonly ask for your respect and your loooyalty."

The Vindicare snorted as her own proud smirk faded. "To my death, I am loyal to the Thirteenth," she responded, her statement punctuated by the hissing of her respirator. "As long as you lead, I will follow. But until you can do what is necessary for this Officio's future, you will NEVER have my respect."

Fran let out a tired sigh, then shrugged. "I guess that's aaaaas much as I can aaaaask," she conceded. "There iiiiis one other thiiiing to cover before you goooo."

"I made a liiiiittle deal with the Seventeenth aaaaand they offered one of theeeeirs," Fran explained. "Her naaaame is, um, let's see." The Chief Director paused to shuffle through a pile of papers in one of her desk drawers. At last, she pulled out the right one as Clare impatiently drummed her fingers on her bicep. "Veraaaa Rourke! That's her! I'll have her fuuuuull dossier emailed to you later todaaay. Their Warmaster says she was in liiiine to be Rank Leadeeeer! You'll haaave her by the end of the weeeeeek~"

Clare thumped a fist over her heart and nodded again. "Long live the Warmaster," she said.

"It's Chief Director noooow, remeeeember?"

"Mm," the Mortician grunted as she began to turn away. "So it is."

***

And that's all for this one! I hit a bit of a wall with PM, so I decided to get started on this earlier than I had planned. I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter of Blood and Iron, and I hope it wasn't too light-hearted for today's extremely grim and noir thread.

I made my way inside the superstructure with a quick pace; eager to find the real target hiding inside. The scent of blood was strong as well, but it was starting to get overpowered by the scent of decay. It was such a waste... I could tell from those smells alone that the mastermind of this little play was a Magical Girl who had very little of "magical". She was a butcher, worse than me no doubt. Silke tagged behind me at a slower pace. I thought her suit might filter out at least some of the smell, but she seemed to be fairly affected by it nonetheless.

In all fairness, even if we Magical Girl are all familiar with death, it's usually deaths of small scale. Death within a barrier, death of a rival, death of by-standers, death of a friend. Sometimes entire squads may die, and that's all part of the life we've chosen.

This is not that life. This is carnage, one that very few ever get exposed to. The smell of iron and rot was so strong it spoke to me. It spoke of numberless corpses waiting ahead. It spoke to me of Deaths unneeded and Deaths in torment.

"Silke, you can turn back if you want. It's going to become even worse, a lot worse." I broke the silence with a serious voice.

"What are you talking about?" she didn't stop, instead quickening her pace to catch up with me. Thanks for the headache by the way. "I-I'm fine, really! I was just... a little surprised that's all, I wasn't hurt anywhere I swear!"==[1/10]

That was the kind of things I could recall rookies saying when they really were injured and were trying to hide it or play tough, but her suit didn't have any damage so I could tell she wasn't lying. For all the obfuscation of that tinted visor and distorted vox-caster, sometimes I felt like the Culexus could be an open book. She was a bit naive, and yet not... It was strange and difficult to explain, but it was why I felt compelled to shelter her from the hell she was going to see if she continued.

"I wasn't doubting you or your abilities." I continued. "It's just that I know what's waiting ahead, kinda, and it's not the kind of things I think you want to see."

"A truckload of corpses yes, it does not take a genius to figure it out." Her voice seemed to be tainted by a little exasperation and a good measure of sarcasm, taking me by surprise a bit. "I am not a kid." she then stated flatly before turning her head away slightly. "I-I know I won't like it... but I can't just.. let you shoulder it all alone. That's why I have to be here!"

I blinked, finally understanding and breaking in a small smile. Not a crazy smile, not a bloodthirsty smile, just a genuine, warm smile. She was a good girl and I'd just have to deal with it. She barely knew me, fuck she most likely had more reasons to want to be -away- from me than otherwise, but yet she was steadfast in wanting to be there and help. I couldn't help but feel like despite how naive it was, it was also a little admirable.==[2/10]

I ripped open one of the nearby, smaller doors by shoving my left claw into the joint and pulling, tearing it off its hinges in the process. What may one day have been a cafeteria was no longer fit to serve this purpose. All the furniture had been shoved to the walls and the entire space had been covered in bodies and vitae. I flinched when the smell hit my augmented nose. I think the fact that I was used to this smell was the only thing that prevented me from puking my guts out from how strong and foul it was. Silke was having a similar reaction, but managed to hold as well, probably due to the air filtration I assume her suit has.

I moved in first while she remained stunned at the sheer charnel. A quick look gave my worst suspicions much more weight. The bodies were all disparate with no obvious common factor of age, gender, or social class, but they had all been killed in the same way; ritual sacrifice with some sharp object, probably a knife. And it wasn't clean deaths either, no quick deaths. They had all been stabbed and sliced in ways that they would die slowly, bleeding out as much and as long as possible.

"W-what is this... " I heard Silke whisper with a hint of fear and horror. No matter how much I would have tried, even I couldn't have remained unaffected by this either. From my gut feelings, those were all random innocents who had nothing to do with this. "Who.. why would anyone do something like this?" the Culexus' voice choked a little. "There's... no reason.. no logic... so why?"

I moved in with a rising feeling, a hunch. I walked through the pooled up crimson and the twisted mass of once-flesh, making my way to the center. I cleared the center of the room with my feet, trying to make some space to see the ground underneath and I froze. It was just as I suspected.==[3/10]

+Stop being so silent! You're creeping me out!+ I flinched visibly and turned back, the stabbing Pulse forcing my attention. Silke continued with a calmer tone and looked over, perhaps considering if she wanted to attempt heading over to my position. "You know something about this don't you?"

I nodded lightly and reached down, picking up the source of my suspicions and showing it to her. Between my skeletal fingers I had found three completely blood-stained Grief Seeds.

"..." The little German remained silent for a moment and I looked back down, giving one last look to the small piece of floor I could examine, kicking some more once-flesh out of the way and scraping the blood-paint away with my free claw. "Some sort of runes, Barrier-like." I announced as I stood back up.

Silke took a deep breath and seemed to steel herself, desperately clinging to calm "So... what.. does it mean?" I made my way back to the doorway, bloodied Grief Seeds still held in my left hand.

"I can only speculate, but from what I can observe; those are 'dormant' and were 'fed' the agony of all these people. All their fear, their regrets, their despair, their dying thoughts, used in some kind of... fucked up ritual. I'm willing to bet it's what brought those Daemon-familiars into the real world earlier."

Silke nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. I put the Grief Seeds in my Inventory for further study and made to reach out for a pat on her shoulder, but ultimately thought better of it when I factored in that my hands were stained with much blood. "Who.. who do you think could so something like this? I... we have powers of our own... we don't need this... so why would anyone go to such an extent?" Her voice was trembling now, but I couldn't tell if it was from shock or hatred. I secretly wished it was hatred, because that's what boiled in my blood at that point too. ==[4/10]

"Someone who doesn't really understand what they're dealing with." I stated with a sigh and made my way outside. "Come, we don't have much time left."

"Until what?" the German Culexus quickly followed me, most likely more than eager to leave that necropolis.

----

We quickly made our way to what we assumed to be the bridge, only to find it underwhelmingly empty. At least the stench of rot wasn't there anymore so my nose stopped suffering. We searched the bridge for a minute and found out it wasn't as empty as it first looked. I sensed a presence and found a young man hiding in a hollowed out compartment, quivering in fear. He let out a scream when he saw me and started begging, so I turned back to Silke for opinions.

"...There's already been too much killing... he doesn't seem like a threat so.. just.. leave him alone..." her voice trailed off a little, seeming tired again. I looked back to the young man with a straight face and told him to shut the fuck up. He did. I then asked him what the fuck he was doing here. He answered.

Apparently this guy was a member of the pirate crew, but he went into hiding when their bosses came and asked everyone to follow them for a meeting. He had heard what had happened to the prisoners - because he admitted that the people down below were captured by them - and had been completely freaked out ever since. He said he never wanted to kill anyone and thought they would be used for a ransom or something. His voice was frantic, broken, as if trying to blurt out apologies and atonement at the same time as information.==[5/10]

The guy seemed way over his head, having joined with the crew for promises of wealth and adventures. It was all supposed to be fun he said. It was all supposed to be 'magical' he said. He seemed broken enough by the experience that a magical girl in the same state would have already Witched Out, but he seemed like just your average guy lured by false sweet words. For a moment I wondered if any of the others I mercilessly killed outside had been the same, but I chased away the thought as soon as it came.

Never again. I can't think like that anymore.

"From how he's describing it, I think it confirms our suspicions to the presence of a Callidus." Silke spoke softly, mitigating the distortion of her Vox-caster somewhat for a reason I couldn't quite grasp. "She must have used her abilities to charm and suggest her way into commandeering this ship and gaining more followers." the young man looked up, confused but trying to follow. "Just stay here for now, we will take care of everything." she reached down and gave him a small pat.

"I have a bad feeling about this, we need to get going." I insisted firmly, not fond of Silke wasting her time like this.

"You have been having those ever since this mission started." she responded with a small sigh.

"And things have been fucked since this mission started." I rolled my eyes and countered.

"You have a point." She finally conceded.

The man hailed for us to wait and told us the location of the meeting, earning a small thank from the little German. I just moved on ahead.

On our way down to the cargo hold, the German Culexus got closer and asked me a few questions with an uncharacteristically cold tone. "Why do you look like you know more than you let on? You've been facing this kind of things before haven't you? I'd.. like to believe that rather than the alternative."==[6/10]

"Then believe what you want to believe." I simply responded without slowing down. The tension between us rose sharply, I could sense it; her distrust, her hostility.

"I can't believe it." she spat with disdain.

"Don't take me wrong." I remained calm, focusing on the objective. "I never did anything like this, even if I was part of a group like this before. I was low on the ladder, didn't really know what the fuck I was doing at the time. It was before I contracted; a really long while ago."

There was a silence, a heavy, unpleasant one. "Fine, I'll believe you for now, then what are they?" Silke inquired with a voice that meant to be uncompromising. I wasn't exactly intimidated, but then again I knew better than to fuck with her since what she did to me back at Suzume's place.

"Witch Cults" I said coldly and she repeated it in disbelief. "There's a variety of them all with their own creeds, but all of them are obsessed with Witches. Some of them think they're some sort of higher power, whether for good or bad - that's mostly the human ones - and then there's Witch Cults who think they can gain power by messing with the natural order of things - that's usually the ones Magical Girls get seduced by."

"And you think we're dealing with one of the later?" The Culexus' voice softened lightly, apparently satisfied with my quick explanation. I responded with a firm affirmative and she continued. "And... what... kind were you in.. back then?"

I shook my head, we were almost at the cargo bay. "I'll tell you that when we get back. We're almost there." the sound of screams suddenly rose up. Panic, betrayal, anger, frustration. All punctuated by gunshots.==[7/10]

I detonated the gate to the cargo bay with a quick application of volatile doombolts and entered right through the gap in the same moment. What I saw there was enough to get my blood to seethe again. They were killing their own followers. Slicing them like pigs for another sacrifice. The floor was covered in blasphemous runes and the blood was already flowing strong, but it was too late.

It was too much. The smell of blood was too strong, and because of the freshness, the smell of carrions hadn't been growing yet. I didn't need to call upon Empyrean energies this time, my body was already moving on its own; guided by the hunt, guided by the hatred. The hatred became all. The hatred is everything.

I didn't even have time to see what Rank the first was. She spotted me from the corner of her eye but it was too late. By the time she had turned to face me my left claw had already tasted blood, sinking into her neck and pulling sharply. Red. Everything was red. The broken body of the cultist snapped and fell down, the knife it had been holding hitting the floor first.

The second one had quicker wits and attacked me the second I closed in on the first. She wielded a sword of some description and managed to score a cut to my side, but it mattered little. I knew no pain when those feelings overwhelmed me. A slice just wouldn't cut it, she needed to sever wholesome to have a chance.

But she wouldn't get it. I had already forced her on the defensive and my claws harassed her blade with murderous glee, gnawing at her body a little more with every opening and every parry that was just a bit too slow. It was a fellow Eversor all right, to be able to survive this long. It was also a driven one all right, to be stomaching the pain and strain with a smile. But it was also a forsaken one all right, to be facing me in such a place.==[8/10]

The arm fell down first and I could feel more fresh blood warming up my fingers, washing away the old blood that was already there. The chest came second, feeding the senses of my other claw as it tore through. I cared not for the Soul Gem and turned to kill the last, only to find her body already fallen and Silke standing next to it, giving the final blow.

Finally, my blood cooled down and settled. There was a number of so-called pirates still alive as we had stepped in during their execution, but they were too shaken to do anything now. My breath was heavy as senses returned to me; not from physical exhaustion, but from mental exhaustion.

"H-hey.. are.. are you fine? you're.. you've got a strange look." The Culexus hazarded with a cautious tone, as if she was worried her voice alone might trigger another outburst of violence from me. I couldn't blame her really; this wasn't me anymore... I hadn't let myself get overtaken by rage like this in a very long time before... Well, before the world changed. "I'll be fine now..."

Warbringer... my right hand grasped slightly at the hilt that wasn't there, longing for its presence. My partner, my friend. The weapon, as ill-omened as it was, had helped me remain stable. Without it I felt like I could lose control again like this with little provocation. I hoped I was just being too pessimistic.

Silke walked closer to me in silence and looked at me from behind that opaque visor of her. I was so sure she was judging me right now; maybe looking down on me. Most likely all she would see from now on was how I fought and what I used to be part of. She--

"You did good." she reached out a hand, her voice calm and level as usual. I blinked. "Let's head back."

I was stunned for a moment, only managing to mutter a small "alright". She made to leave but I spoke up. "Wait, how do we know it's over." She didn't stop.

She shook her head. "The people they manipulated will have their justice."

I didn't need to look around to realize this was true. The surviving "pirates" were getting back to their feet and they would surely take their revenge against those "cult leaders". Most likely they would finish them off while they were vulnerable. It was no longer our concern; the cargo was safe.

We made our way back to our original ship and the engines started back up after I destroyed the ramp connecting the two vessels, both of which began to limp back to their respective port with what little remained of their crew - although thanks to Silke ours sheltered a lot more survivors.==[10/10]

The clang of metal. A stern lecture, peppered with a few choice insults, and a quiet whimper in answer - her sister always had been a little too harsh - as she stood to the side of it all, showing both encouragement and concern in turn for both parties. In some ways, obviously excepting the weapons, it was just like their old home.

The three Katayamas - Mizuki, as well as her sister Mitsuko - had spent the bulk of their days in the orphanage known as the Mitakihara Children's Home, occasionally known as the Second Chance Institute. Like almost every orphanage, hospital and the like in the area, the Third had a heavy hand or investment in it if not outright ownership. As Harumi would always explain, it was an expression of Sanbey's generosity, his eagerness to help the weak and helpless around him, as shown by how those were often the first he would approach to grant wishes. It held up well enough, with everything he had done. They were prime examples themselves.

They could never quite remember what brought them to the orphanage, and by and large, did their best to keep it that way. It was too early in their lives to recall, and there was nothing to be gained from learning a now-irrelevant portion of the past. They might have clung to it if their lives had been bitter, but - and really, this only underlined the incubator's generosity - the Mitakihara Children's Home was nothing like the nightmarish institutions that dotted fiction at every turn. It was, indeed, a pleasant enough place to live out their years, and Harumi herself had regularly come to inspect the premises, as well as bringing gifts or sweets for the children there.

As much as they had liked it there, when Harumi came to offer them a chance for their own home - they would, at first, be staying at her house before taking a dormitory at the Third - they were all too eager to accept. Eventually, after much needling, they managed to drag the answer out of her, reluctant as she was, as to just what it was that she did. Too modest, much too modest. A magical girl of the Third Officio, as they discovered. Helping the incubator on his quest to save the universe from its eventual fall by creating all the hope they could in the world. Hunting witches and doing Sanbey's work throughout Mitakihara. What could be more noble? What could be more exciting?

She relented, after a few days of begging, and agreed to talk to Sanbey about the matter. They were, of course, overjoyed when they heard that they would be allowed to take a contract. In their eagerness, a wish had been more or less secondary, a formality that they could think of no adequate answer for, not after one wish had already been granted. A selfish wish seemed somehow... inappropriate, given the circumstances, and so they had decided.

Mizuki would bring happiness to those around her - after all, wasn't that what this was all about? - while Mitsuko would help others reach their true potential. It wouldn't do, after all, if they were anything short of flawless in their work for such an important cause. And so they-

The girl in the orange dress - their latest... friend? Pupil? It was something like that - was bleeding from a few gashes, the few that hadn't been cauterised by burning light. Slashes from... what was Mitsuko using, now? Some sort of wrist-mounted disc launcher. She always found the strangest things. Crying, too, but not from the injuries. Must have been something her sister had said.

"That's enough, I think." Her voice rang out across the training room, gentle but insistent, and the two stopped immediately: One lowering her arm, and the other a plain, unadorned broadsword. It seemed a bit silly, a Vanus helping to teach an Eversor in combat, but that was seniority for you. Practice could make such a great difference, her sister had experience aplenty in combat; if she wasn't being deployed for interrogations, Mitsuko was generally on the front lines.

Or finding someone to fuss over, as was the case here. But then, that was a mutual obsession of theirs, in a way.

"There, there. You both did well. Don't listen to Mitsuko TOO much, now," she cautions with a look towards the Eversor. "She's always been a bit too... well, you know." But not wrong, never wrong, when it came to picking out the flaws of those around her. Some said the sisters' wishes had changed their nature, in some way. How could it have? They were only doing what they could to help people, it was an absurd claim.

She glances across the hall, and smiles as she catches the eye of the third Katayama sister. "No one's too hurt, right? I think we need to stop here for now, then." The Eversor beamed at the praise - it was, for a new recruit, in rather low supply - and gratefully received the bandages offered to her by Mizuki. She would then thank Mitsuko, the elder of the two, as she was showered with a caustic litany, a list of every flaw in her style and reflexes alike that left nothing unexposed. It was her own sort of kindness, Mizuki liked to think. ...Though the other girl's voice was shaking a little, by the end.

The Katayamas made a rather contrasting pair even in appearance. Mitsuko in a yellowish dress that shone with sometimes-blinding golden light and a soul gem to match, offset by blue eyes and flowing purple hair. Mizuki dressed in drab colours topped, in costume, by what amounted to a grey raincoat, and a soul gem once again in the same colour, with warm dark eyes covered over by blonde hair as the sole splash of colour. ...The hair was dyed on both counts, but that could be their little secret. Everyone seemed to take it in stride anyway. Mitsuko was trivial enough to pick out at a distance, while Mizuki had a certain tendency to blend in even mid-conversation. Truth be told, it was how they both liked it.

A pat on the head and some murmured reassurances later, their latest student - for the life of her, Mizuki couldn't remember her name - had calmed down somewhat, ready to proceed. The Callidus was all too happy to prepare and set the stage, though she would never dream of taking it herself. It just wasn't her place. Instead, she pulls out a pair of folding chairs and brings their violin cases over, along with a bottle of water each. It was the little touches that made the difference. Goodness knew all the shouting left Mitsuko's throat dry, if nothing else.

"I can only assume by the noise that you're attempting to strangle a cat," came Mitsuko's dry, even-voiced objection before long. Clearly weary of the company and all that it brought.

"I-is... is it really that bad?" Stammering a little, she really was a nervous one. It must have been the way they were the first to come to her when she joined the Third that made her scramble for approval like this. At least they were here to help, as always.

"I can promise that your music touched my soul," in a voice as dry and cold as a mausoleum. There was that smile again, all the same.

"Really?"

"If only to drag it into hellish, burning misery." She grabbed the Eversor's hand in hers, adjusting its position and moving the bow herself by way of demonstration.

"That... really hurts-"

"Would you play better with a broken hand, I wonder? At least it would be quieter." Oh, there she went again. That was the cue to step in, surely.

"I didn't think it was that bad, Mitsuko." What could be, really? ...Though it certainly wasn't an instrument that took kindly to a lack of skill, she knew that.

"You don't think much at all." The quips never really meant anything between them. Part of the ritual, part of the... well, calling it a show seemed wrong, somehow. Their dynamic, in a way. It helped to make all this come together, anyway.

A while longer, and the lesson comes to a close, amidst comforting words and smothering praise that sends the Eversor scampering back to her quarters with renewed glee and a touch of fear. She would redouble her efforts now that her mistakes had been exposed, no doubt, and Mizuki's encouragement would save her from breaking. ...Not everyone could take it, despite their best efforts, but surely it was for the best. They were only helping others bring out the best in themselves. With each one holding the third Katayama in one hand, they made their way towards their quarters for the night.

"You weren't quite that mean when you were sparring earlier."

"That was a matter of life and death. This is a hobby."

"...So?" She was a hard one to understand, sometimes.

"So it matters to her personally. Holding back would be cruel."

...She was a kind one, in her own way. Not many realised just how much she cared, and that seemed to be how she liked it, but in Mizuki's eyes the Vanus would always be a warm-hearted guide. There just wasn't any other way to look at it. Still, she knew better to press the point, and so they walked into their dormitory together. Spartan furnishings aside a few scattered snacks and books. They lived most of their days away from it, in the company of others, and never bothered to use the room for much more than sleep. Well, sleep and keeping a few essentials, speaking of which...

Setting down her compact mirror, Mizuki watches as it turns from a circle to a square, then grew to a full-sized mirror leaning on one wall. A minor enchantment that she was, to this day, rather grateful for. She simply couldn't bear to go without it, after all, and Mitsuko was no different. It meant the world to them, though so few knew it. The looks they would get were... well, strange indeed. An hour later, when the two were almost asleep, it would start.

An insistent tapping. Knocking. Irregular, sometimes emphatic and at other times half-hearted, a hand against glass. It had become habit, over the years, to look up at the window to spot the source. The lack of a window in their room certainly simplified this part, at least. Instead, with a faint smile to contrast the frown in the bunk above, she looks over at the mirror and smiles to the third of the Katayama sisters. She always had been a loud one.

Aches and pains ache and pain a lot less in costume. That’s one advantage of being a magical girl, I suppose. Unfortunately, being a magical girl tends to get you injured a lot, so it kind of evens out.

But the hurting’s gone down to a tolerable level now, so there’s nothing to distract me from combat practice - other than the fact that I dread combat practice. Well, I dread just about everything they come up with for training here, and haven’t really fought anything since Fuckerfly, but I haven’t gotten the itinerary for the rest of the day’s activities. The grueling workout near the end doesn’t count.

…Fuckerfly is still okay, right? They keep saying she’s fine, but I haven’t seen her in quite some time. Then again, I haven’t been on the rooftop since I wrecked her stuff, so maybe she’s just staying there.

Anyway, this is still better than paperwork. I actually don’t want to die here, so it counts as an improvement.

Well, here’s the place I’m supposed to fight at. The entrance to the same training hall that Fuckerfly fought me at. Same set of double doors that Kai opened for me last time.

I just realized I’ve been seeing a lot of double doors around the Officio. And they’re big ones, too. Like, big enough to fit an elephant through. The implications make me shiver.

I push open the doors into the well-scarred training hall.

…Shit. It’s that giant, spider-legged fishbowl with the plastic castle inside. I hadn’t been chased around by it in a while, so I was hoping that it was gone. Apparently that’s not the case.

Who even builds shit like that, and –why-?

And then everything goes dark as somebody covers my eyes from behind. The smell of perfume is just barely there, but I recognize it. And it fits her M.O., so…

Spider Cunt removes her hands, allowing me to see again. “Ihihihi, not bad, not bad,” she praises. The lady walks into my field of vision, wringing her hands and looking at me through half-lidded eyes.

“So,” I say after a bit, “other than making me uncomfortable-” Don’t give me that look, it can’t be that hard to act normal - “why’re you here?”

Somebody's climbing out of the weird fishbowl thing. So I’m not fighting the fishbowl. It’s another… Another flesh and blood person. Fuck.

“...It’s not going to be like last time, right?”

“Mm?” Spider Cunt murmurs.

“I don’t want to…” I plead, gesturing towards my opponent, “you know… Don’t wanna have to murder someone like that again.” Or get murdered, I guess. I shouldn’t assume I’m going to win. I'm probably going to get my ass kicked, but still...

The creepy girl’s lips twist into a creepy grin. “Then allow me to deliver the good news for ya,” she explains, putting her arms behind her back and rocking on her heels. “Today’s combat exercise is just best two outta three rounds.”

Suzi takes a couple steps back and takes out the box with the cushion I saw last time. “Now I’m gonna need ya to put yer soul gem in this box here,” she explains, as if I’d forgotten.

“Please don’t touch it,” I implore her as I set the shining blue gemstone onto the cushion.

Suzi’s giggling does nothing to reassure me. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter, though.

My opponent, dressed in what is unmistakably a white wedding gown, is bent forward like she's ready to spring on me.

I glance towards the exits, but both of them are blocked off with fucking SPIDERS and spiderwebs. I'm stuck here, then. Great.

“Noooo chickenin’ out, Ellyyyy~,” Suzi calls out from a few feet away. Meanwhile, my opponent - let's call her Fish Girl - is stumbling around on her feet like a drunk. She leers at me with slight smile, one eye concealed by her hair. Looks kinda tired. Maybe I lucked out.

Fish girl slowly lifts her arm and waves at me. I awkwardly wave back. It makes her smile a bit wider. Not sure if I should be happy about that or not.

“Alright, are both of ya ready?” Suzi bellows out. Right, I need my weapon. It's like conjuring a normal pen, but you think bigger and meaner.

I open my metal hand wide, then close it around the tall object that just appeared. Can't say I like the whole 'pen spear' thing that much, but it gives me some distance from Fish Girl. I nod my head to Suzi, and my opponent-

Oh fuck me, she's got a spear too. Or is that a harpoon? Fuck.

“Threeeee, twoooo, ooooone…” lilts Suzi, before she yells out “go!” The creepy spider girl then scrambles away from us.

Okay, I can do this. Just have to stick the pointy end in her twice and we'll be done here...

>>36041248But I'm scared. Holy crap I'm scared. She’s poised like a predatory fish about to go in for the kill, and her bemused, unflinching expression is -not- helping. My blood's frozen cold and my feet won't move any closer to her.

Fish Girl cocks her head before slowly advancing towards me, spear thing held firmly in both hands. Her dizzy movements don't make me feel better about my chances anymore. I end up taking a step back, and then another, and another - my legs shaking the entire time - until I've broken out in a run and reached the nearest wall.

“Elly?" Suzi calls out with concern. "Yer opponent’s back there.”

“Exactly!” I spit, back against the wall.

“Ihihihi, don’t be so nervous," Spider Cunt teases me. "It’s not even yer first time~.”

Easy for you to say. Your innate creepiness probably gives you some immunity to this sort of scare tactic.

Without thinking, I move up and cock my arm back, and then hurl my pen spear straight at her. The weapon remains unnaturally straight in its flight, screaming towards Fish Girl as she makes no attempt to dodge out of the way.

Okay, in retrospect, that wasn't the smartest thing to do. But I still didn't expect her to deflect it out of the air with her own spear. The pen spins away and clatters some distance behind her before rolling to a stop.

Before I can make another one, Fish Girl changes her grip so her right hand is empty. She flicks it over her head, and just as quickly pulls it down and points in my direction. Dozens, maybe even hundreds, of tiny, silvery objects fly out and rocket towards me. I try running, but more of those things flying towards me cut off my escape. I crouch down and put up my arms to shield myself - robotic arm first, hopefully it'll take the brunt of whatever hits me.

The silver objects streak by, a couple of them just grazing me. The attack seems to have stopped, and Fish Girl is doing something else with her free hand. I should probably move again, but curiosity gets the better of me, and I stand to look around and see what became of the projectiles.

Embedded in the walls and floors - the walls and floors made of goddamn sheet metal - are hooks. Lots and lots of metal fishhooks, with a very fine, almost invisible string attached to each hook. A fishing line.

Fish Girl tried to pull me in with fishing line. The fuck.

This seems like a good time to escape and try again, until Fish Girl reels herself in, hurtling towards me so fast she's fucking -flying-. I don't even have time to put my arms up again before her hips slam into me.

I'm knocked into the wall and bang my head before I slump to the ground in pain. Suddenly the aches from this morning don't seem so bad in comparison. Fish Girl towers over me, spear poised to strike. I'm able to bring my arms up, but I'm in prime head-skewering territory right now. I force my eyes shut, not wanting to see it coming.

There's a light tap on my head, and then a shuffling noise. I bring my arms down and look, and Fish Girl is slowly walking away, fish tail sticking out of the bottom of her dress.

She has a fish tail. I should have guessed.

“And that’s one point against ya, Elly," Suzi calls out from nearby. Oh sure, don't bother to help me stand up. I try to do so on my own, but stumble even more than Fish Girl. Moving my legs hurts too much now, though I don't think I'm bleeding. I make the pen from before disappear, then summon another one. I use that one as a cane and stagger back towards Fish Girl, who's still giving me a eerie smile. She's still got one of her hands free.

I don't get any chances to dwell on this before there’s a tugging at my clothes, followed by my skin being pierced by a fresh shower of sharp hooks. I manage to avoid screaming in pain by instead emitting a loud, agonized groan. The tugging from before is MUCH stronger, and I'm yanked off my feet as the hooks dig deeper, dropping my spear. Now it's me hurtling through the air, with the hooks ripping at my body. My robot arm's not snagged, but it's still wrapped up tight enough that I can't move it.

...Fuck, this hurts. This hurts worse than Fuckerfly’s attacks did. Much worse.

And now, being deposited in front of Fish Girl, I'm reminded of that screaming witch that tried to bite off my head. The screaming witch that was me. The screaming witch that would have succeeded if Fuckface and Checkers hadn't been there to intervene. I look pleadingly at Suzi, who's just grinning at me and not lifting a finger to help, like it's some kind of game to her. Fuck you too, Spider Cunt. I knew you were just a goddamn sadist from the start.

...Well, I'm not going to die without my soul gem being crushed, but I don't think it's going to tickle when I get cannibalized. And I'm not going to pretend there's any other way this will end for me.

I look back to my captor and loudly plead, “just make it quick!” She nods, her grin widening, and raises her spear up high. Ready to skewer me from head to toe. Again, I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the worst. For what good it'll do me. I don't know how it feels to be impaled, but it probably hurts enough that no amount of preparation can help you.

“Victory goes to Miss Marina St. Maur!”cheers Suzi, who tells me, “gotta do better than that next time, Elly~.”

“…Huh? Marina?” My eyes snap open and I look at Fish Girl again. There’s no way. The hair is different, and the attitude was different, and… Well, they walk similar, and she’s got a sharktooth necklace like Marina, and same red eyes, but there’s just no way. There’s no fucking way this is possible. Marina was –nice-. Actually –nice-. Not pretend nice like Fuckerfly, but nice in the way that there’s no way she’d skewer me with a whole bunch of hooks.

“Thank you for earlier,” Fish Girl tells me. “Those snacks… They were delightful.” The hooks and fishing line all disappear at once, and I’m free to shiver and bleed out. Fuck, it is her. I got suckered into trusting somebody again.

“Oh? Ya know each other?” Suzi queries.

“I shop where she works,” Fish Girl replies. “Helpful girl. Very friendly.” Her words are starting to sound really condescending now. Or maybe they’ve been like that all along.

Fuck. I can’t trust anybody here, can I? This is ridiculous. This is absolutely ridiculous. I try to stand up again, noticing dozens of little red spots on my costume where I’m bleeding, and glare at Fish Girl. I want to give her a piece of my mind, but I’d just get my ass kicked if I did that.

Fish Girl is rifling around in her inventory for something, and pulls out an unopened box of chocolates that she got from the store. Ripping it open, she daintily holds up a piece and smiles at me. “Say ‘aah’.”

Marina sticks one of the wafers in my mouth, and I instinctively chew it. While the healing power of fudge and coconut washes over me, she hands me the rest of the box. “You forgot these,” she chides. Which was true – I wanted to pick up a box earlier, but didn’t get around to it.

“Fanks,” I murmur through a mouthful of cookie.

Marina shakes her head. “You looked like you needed them,” she replies. And I probably did.

I’m trying not to smile, but it’s hard. It’s really hard not to be happy when you’ve got something tasty like this and not everything is terrible. I swallow, and stifle the urge to immediately grab another, so I can ask an important question. “But why’d you do all the scary, painful stuff, Marina? Those hooks hurt.”

Marina’s smile turns mischievous when she admits, “I like to play around with the new blood.”

“O-oh. I see.” I want to ask about the fishbowl, but I’m more frightened than curious about that. Maybe another time.

“It’s just for fun. Nothing personal,” she assures me, patting me on the head like a kid. “We all went through it.”

I kind of nod along in understanding. It’s one of those ‘tradition’ things that some places have. Like saying all second-graders need to lick the flagpole in winter or something like that, right?

“Alright, ya guys wanna go now?” Suzi asks. The doors are freed up again, so we can leave at any time. I should probably go somewhere quiet to patch myself up like they showed me before.

I nod, and make to leave, but Marina grabs my arm, blood soaking into her white sleeve. I look back at her curiously, and she’s rattling her necklace again. Her expression is stern, though. Disappointed, even.

“…I was scared,” I admit, feeling too ashamed to look her in the eyes. “It’s… You were really scary.”

Marina tugs on my arm, forcing me to turn to look at her. “Things out there,” she says, making a sweeping gesture with her other arm, “they’re a lot scarier than me.” Her face softens into a pout of concern. “You can’t always run away from them.”

I understand that. I get that. But that doesn’t make it any easier to cope. “How do you deal with it?” I ask her.

Marina shrugs, telling me plainly, “they’re just prey.”

That’s not the kind of answer I was hoping for. My shoulders sag while I murmur, “I’m not really much of a ‘predator’, though.” I can scarcely picture myself fighting things without feeling a bit… Uncomfortable about it.

Marina lets go of my arm, then places her hand on my shoulder, “It’s okay,” she reassures me. “Sometimes, when you smell blood in the water,” she says in a far off voice, rattling her necklace again, “you just go for it.”

I stare at her, turning the phrase over and over in my head. ‘When you smell blood in the water, just go for it’? “You mean… Sometimes you have to go crazy?” I venture.

Nod. Well, this confirms my fear that Eversors are all a little mad. Might have to ask Fuckface for insanity lessons or something.

“Even so… I’m not very good at melee,” I admit. My last opponent lost by a bunch of factors acting in my favor. I don’t want to have to rely on dumb luck.

Marina smiles again, quietly asking, “Do you want… help?”

I’m kind of struck dumb. I wasn’t really expecting her to volunteer help. It’s not like we’re the best of friends or anything. “I… I don’t know,” I stammer, “I don’t want to be a bother…”

Marina has both hands on my shoulders now, and stares at me intently. “Then…” she starts, lips curling into a playful grin, “bring snacks.”

Somebody grabs me by the scruff of the collar and hauls me away. “Alright, alright, time’s a-wastin’,” Suzi grumbles, handing back my soul gem. Not sure what’s eating her, though I guess I do have to get ready for whatever else Kai has lined up for today. I wave goodbye to Marina, and she waves back, springing back into the fishbowl with a splash. It was kind of cool.

After we’re out of the look at the box of snacks - don’t look at the letters – and then remember something important. “Miss Suzi?” I call to the person dragging me around.

Suzi lets me go and moves back into my field of vision. “Just call me Suzi~,” she says with a giggle, “or big sis~.” And then winks at me.

“Miss Suzi.” I repeat sternly. “Could you pass along a message to… whoever’s supposed to get it?”

Wringing her hands again, Suzi explains, “Wellllll, I can sure try.” Leaning in uncomfortably close, she asks me, “what’s the message?” I want to back away to a more comfortable distance, but I really need to get this out of the way.

Taking a deep breath, I tell Suzi, “I’d like to get… help.” I gesture toward the box and the words on it, saying “I need some kind of help controlling the Vanus trance.”

Suzi’s frowning at me in confusion. “But you’re an Eversor now, hun,” she reminds me. “Why’s this so important all of a sudden?”

I hang my head a bit in shame. “If I don’t... Jael says I’m fired.”

“I’ll pass that along to the Warmaster,” Suzi promises, putting her hands on my shoulders and squeezing a little. “I think she’s been plannin’ for this sorta thing. Just sit tight.”

>>36041411And that's it for this time! Switching back to Heather next story!

Thanks to Deculture for letting me write and for the pictures of Eleanor and HeatherThanks to Cooldown for help fleshing out MarinaThanks to Minty for proofreading againThanks to Hat-chan for designing Marina a fitting costume and the lovely sketchThanks to Archival for the name Marina